  (What follows is to the Music DeshÎyavarÂdÎ and the Mode AshtatÂlÎ.) O angel of my hope! O my heart's home! My fear is lost in love, my love in fear; That checks me with its memories, drawing near: Lift up thy look, and let the thing it saith End fear with grace, or darken love to death. Or only speak once more, for though thou slay me, Thy heavenly mouth must move, and I shall hear Dulcet delights of perfect music sway me Again—again that voice so blest and dear; Sweet Judge! the prisoner prayeth for his doom That he may hear his fate divinely come. Speak once more! then thou canst not choose but show Thy mouth's unparalleled and honeyed wonder Where, like pearls hid in red-lipped shells, the row Of pearly teeth thy rose-red lips lie under; Ah me! I am that bird that woos the moon, And pipes—poor fool! to make it glitter soon. Yet hear me on—because I cannot stay The passion of my soul, because my gladness Will pour forth from my heart;—since that far day When through the mist of all my sin and sadness All else I slighted for thy noblest sake. Thou, thou hast been my blood, my breath, my being; The pearl to plunge for in the sea of life; The sight to strain for, past the bounds of seeing; The victory to win through longest strife; My Queen! my crowned Mistress! my sphered bride! Take this for truth, that what I say beside. Of bold love—grown full-orbed at sight of thee— May be forgiven with a quick remission; For, thou divine fulfilment of all hope! Thou all-undreamed completion of the vision! I gaze upon thy beauty, and my fear Passes as clouds do, when the moon shines clear. So if thou'rt angry still, this shall avail, Look straight at me, and let thy bright glance wound me; Fetter me! gyve me! lock me in the gaol Of thy delicious arms; make fast around me The silk-soft manacles of wrists and hands, Then kill me! I shall never break those bands. The starlight jewels flashing on thy breast Have not my right to hear thy beating heart; The happy jasmine-buds that clasp thy waist Are soft usurpers of my place and part; If that fair girdle only there must shine, Give me the girdle's life—the girdle mine! Thy brow like smooth BandhÛka-leaves; thy cheek Which the dark-tinted Madhuk's velvet shows; Thy long-lashed Lotus eyes, lustrous and meek; Thy nose a Tila-bud; thy teeth like rows Of Kunda-petals! he who pierceth hearts Points with thy lovelinesses all five darts. But Radiant, Perfect, Sweet, Supreme, forgive! My heart is wise—my tongue is foolish still: I know where I am come—I know I live— I know that thou art Radha—that this will Last and be heaven: that I have leave to rise Up from thy feet, and look into thine eyes! And, nearer coming, I ask for grace Now that the blest eyes turn to mine; Since first I saw them shine: Dearest glory that stills my voice, Beauty unseen, unknown, unthought! Splendour of love, in whose sweet light Darkness is past and nought; Ah, beyond words that sound on earth, Golden bloom of the garden of heaven! Radha, enchantress! Radha, the queen! Be this trespass forgiven— In that I dare, with courage too much And a heart afraid,—so bold it is grown— To hold thy hand with a bridegroom's touch, And take thee for mine, mine own. So they met and so they ended Pain and parting, being blended Life with life—made one for ever In high love; and Jayadeva Hasteneth on to close the story Of their bridal grace and glory. (Here ends that Sarga of the GÎta Govinda entitled
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